just say yes
by bluestoplights
Summary: Emma has a question. Killian might have an answer. Based on set photos/speculation for the season finale.
_**For an anon on tumblr who asked for proposal fic. This is unbeta'd, so I hope it's vaguely readable? It's all on me if it's not. Obvious warnings for spoilers. You can follow me as bluestoplights on tumblr if you want to see more fic from me/send me prompts/etc.!**_

 _ **-/-**_

"We're home," she says, an exhale. Emma's arms hang at her sides and she sways, a little, in relief. It's dark out, night has fallen since they've come back from the Underworld, but that only means that the twinkle lights above Granny's shine all the brighter.

His eyes shine, too, a lazy shade of blue in the lighting. A grin curls his lips upwards, his dimples showing as he steps closer to pull her hand into his. "Aye. We're home."

Emma scans their surroundings, his hand steady in hers. It still looks the same, after everything, Storybrooke does. It's not Underbrooke, everything tinged pink and broken and twisted. It's where she followed Henry home. It's where she reunited with her parents. It's the same place where she fell into Zelena's time portal, Killian right behind her, right before they got together. It's _home_.

Emma was afraid to admit it, then. She was afraid of acknowledging what her feelings were, what they could be. A crazy man on her doorstep trying to revive her memory with a kiss and the pirate captain she'd reluctantly accepted as an ally, who kissed her like she was a source of oxygen and he was desperate for air. It only got easier when Hook became Killian and the idea of him leaving stopped being inevitable but unimaginable.

She started realizing that when she kissed him on this patio, his lips seeking hers with every sigh and his fingers tangling into her hair. But then it became a matter of him leaving her _unwillingly -_ Killian told her he was a survivor and almost died. Then, he died thrice.

They've only just returned from the third. Their future, all of it, was torn from them. But now, they have a chance at getting it back. The house he chose, lunch dates with onion rings, helping Henry with math that he's - surprisingly, but maybe not surprisingly - about a million times better than her at.

Now, she can hope. Emma can hope for a future, can hope for coming home to him, can hope for forever as long as it lasts.

The word forever gets her, makes her freeze.

"Swan," Killian murmurs, his brow furrowed in concern. "You alright?"

"Fine," she replies quickly, sounding anything but.

He knows her well enough to know when she's lying. He just frowns, the action leaving lines on his face, and holds her hand a little tighter.

Emma hates that she's doing this, getting herself worked up and terrified and nervous all over again. When they just got back, when she just took him back with her from the worst place in any universe. And she's pulling back, again, because the idea of forever isn't something she's allowed herself to hope for.

Even with Walsh, even with the engagement that almost was, she was afraid of taking that step -

Suddenly, she feels like she's suffocating. It's not that she hasn't thought about it, once or at all. There was Walsh and the ring and the answer she almost had before everything else had gone wrong. She wasn't sure, then, but she could be. Emma could accept it. She could imagine those lazy days inside, Walsh helping Henry with his homework, the steady weight of a ring on her finger. But it was so easy then, to fall into the expectations and the easiness. There's nothing easy about her life here, every single bit of it has to be fought for. Every moment of peace has a dozen moments where she can't get a second to think.

Even when she kissed him, right here, when she finally accepted Storybrooke - in all of its madness - as home and he'd waited. Right here, in front of Granny's, he'd waited for her. And she was terrified of all of it. In Neverland, when she kissed him, she was terrified of what it all could mean. When he'd come back for her in New York, she was terrified of leaving what was comfortable for a shot at what was real. In the past - when they'd made her parents meet - she was terrified of the way he'd looked at her while they were dancing, the way he'd folded her so easily into her arms when she cried out for a mother she thought she'd lost, the unwavering faith he'd had in her when she was at her least powerful.

But then he looked at her, here, told her she was worth it. Worth more than all that was precious to him, even when she was pushing him away. And it was easy to stop being afraid, for a moment, when she kissed him and he kissed her back with all they had left unsaid.

Emma is still afraid. It's stupid, because she shouldn't be, after everything. After Rumplestiltskin taking his heart, after going dark and dragging him with her, after the Underworld. There's still a part of her that is scared of reaching for things she can't have when Emma has been repeatedly reminded of the consequences whenever she gets an inch of what she wants. She plans her future and he dies in her arms, she takes it back by force and has to kill him.

Emma has resigned herself to the idea of restoring a happy ending to everyone but herself. When she hopes for a future, it gets destroyed.

And it's _stupid_.

Because they're home, now, they won this battle. It shouldn't matter how many more of them they have to wage so long as they still have _this_.

"What's the matter, love?" Killian asks softly, running his thumb over her knuckles and breaking her out of her reverie. _Please don't pull away from me_ is unsaid, but she can catch it all the same. If only he knew she was thinking the exact opposite. "You can tell me."

Emma purses her lips, for a moment, trying to find the right words to say.

She's tired of being afraid. They've been to hell and back for each other - literally - getting this out shouldn't be so hard. She shouldn't be so doubtful and hesitant to expect home when it's been with her every step of the way, when they've both proven they're willing to fight tooth and nail for it.

And isn't that what her father has always said? True love isn't easy, but it must be fought for.

It's not Walsh and the easy idea of a future in an apartment in New York that felt normal enough for her. It's better. It's Killian and it's _home_. Not one bit of it has every been easy, but that's what makes it mean so much.

"You know," Emma's lips twitch, in spite of her best efforts. She's trying to sound casual, trying to sound easy, trying to sound like she isn't both freaking out internally. "I don't know if you've noticed this, but in our world," her mouth curls around the _'our'_ with a smile, because it _is_ theirs now, "We're not as confined by tradition."

"Oh," Killian murmurs, eyebrows raising. Then, he cocks his head to the side, a baffled expression on his face. "I'm afraid you've lost me, love."

Emma steels herself, her other hand coming to tap on the ring around her neck. Killian just looks befuddled.

"You said you weren't proposing, when you gave this to me," Emma murmurs, her eyes flickering up to meet his.

"I wasn't," Killian agrees, his voice sounding a little strained.

Emma slides the ring off the chain, tugging his hand in hers and sliding it over his ring finger. "It's a good thing I know this fits, then."

Killian can only gape at her, his hand shaking a little in hers. "Swan..."

"You weren't proposing," she murmurs, staring at where the ring sits on his hand and hoping she sounds a lot more brave than she feels. Her heart is beating an unsteady rhythm in her ribcage (she wonders if he can feel it in the half he has) and her hands are shaking more violently than his. If he doesn't want this, it's okay. It really is.

She doesn't need this, she already has enough assurances of forever and always that she doesn't need a stupid legal document or rings to prove it, but it's one more aspect of a future she never hoped she could have. A future she wants. A future she's chosen rather than had robbed from her. Her eyes come up to meet his, shining just a little. "Maybe I am."

"Maybe?" he repeats, curling his hand tightly around both of hers.

"I need a little leeway if you say no," Emma replies, trying to lighten the mood and failing. His lips turn upwards, at that, but she can tell his thoughts must be racing a mile a minute. "So...are you?"

"Am I what?" he croaks out, clutching her hand for dear life. His eyes refuse to leave hers.

"Saying no?" Emma asks, a little breathlessly.

Killian doesn't answer her.

He surges forward to kiss her instead, lifting her up with his hand and hook on her thighs and clinging so tightly to her Emma isn't afraid of falling at all. She just snakes her arms around his neck, kissing him with everything she has, and feels the weightlessness of the moment.

She wonders how she was ever terrified of this, what it could be. Not even death could rob this from her now, she doesn't care if she has to split their hearts into _quarters_. Killian lets her back on her feet and she laughs - just a little - against him before he ducks to press his lips to hers again.

They stand there like that for a moment, swaying and holding on with everything they have.

Killian breaks apart from her, his eyes warm and soft and happy. He's beaming, too, his lips curling into a smile and his teeth showing as soon as her mouth leaves his. "What if you had a guaranteed yes, lass?"

"Then I'd ask you to marry me," she says, just soft enough for him to hear as she presses her forehead to his. "I like guarantees."

"I like you," he hums in turn, pressing a kiss to her lips once more. Then it's her cheeks, her nose, her forehead. Killian pulls her in closer, wrapping his arms snugly around her as she burrows her head into his shoulder and her nose skims along her collarbone. "I like you enough to marry you, I'd say."

"Stop teasing," Emma groans, not an ounce of malice in her voice.

"I love you," he amends. "And I hope you'd love Killian Swan just as much, though I can imagine that'd make the nicknames confusing-"

Emma lifts her head up to meet his, perplexed. "Killian Swan, huh?"

He shrugs. "I thought you'd brought up nontraditional. I quite like the sound of it, really, rolls right off the tongue."

Emma laughs a little breathlessly. "And to think I haven't even officially asked."

"You already know my answer."

"Well, then," Emma sighs dramatically, a grin tugging at her lips. "Killian Jones, will you marry me?"

He cocks his head to the side, pretending to think about it for a moment. "Well, I'm not quite sure I'd ready to settle down, see, and there's this pretty blonde lass who-"

"Killian," she cuts him off, amused. "You're lucky I like you."

"You love me," he corrects, bopping her nose with his finger.

"I do," she replies as his hand comes down to cup the curve of her face. "So, are you interested?"

"In you? I'm always interested in you."

Emma groans, setting her head on his shoulder in exasperation.

"Yes," he answers easily, propping his chin on the crown of her head. "Yes, I'll marry you. I'm a ship captain, you know, I could marry us right here-"

"I don't think that's legal."

"You did say nontraditional, love."

Emma just shakes her head, curling her fingers into his lapel. Her expression becomes more serious. "I just...I was afraid to hope, before, for our future."

"Well," Killian replies, his voice soft and easy as he hums against her hair. "I'm content on reminding you to hang onto that hope, Emma. Every single day."

It's a lighter feeling than their first kiss, in all the airiness and passion and contentedness that was. It's better. It's cemented. And it's enough, knowing that she doesn't need to be afraid anymore. Not when they're both this stubborn, not when they'll never give up on each other.

The future, this time, doesn't seem so bad.


End file.
